


If All It Is Is Eight Letters, Why Is It so Hard to Say?

by jushiiisushiii



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, First Kiss, First Time, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Being an Idiot, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Love Confessions, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22316173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jushiiisushiii/pseuds/jushiiisushiii
Summary: Geralt has a hard time accepting his feelings towards Jaskier. Until, one night...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 17
Kudos: 437





	If All It Is Is Eight Letters, Why Is It so Hard to Say?

Geralt prides himself on being tough. After all, it's what's saved his life on several accounts. He doesn't need anyone, and the last thing he wants is anyone needing him. 

And yet… he knows he never should've let Jaskier into his life. The stupid bard has wormed his way into Geralt's life much too easily. He finds himself wanting to protect Jaskier, wanting to see him flourish and thrive. 

Geralt knows that Jaskier will never get to live his life to the fullest if he stays with him. Maybe that's why he's so cruel and indifferent to Jaskier. Perhaps he's trying to push the bard away, trying to make him see how dangerous a witcher's life is. Make him see why Geralt will never get to have life like normal people. 

Jaskier shifts in his sleep, breathing in deeply and dropping his head on Geralt's shoulder. The witcher grits his teeth and clenched his fists.  _ Fuck.  _

The bard is warm against him, sighing softly through his nose and face peaceful.  _ Even when he's asleep, he's beautiful _ , Geralt thinks, before turning his head and willing away the blush that had risen on his cheeks. 

It's so complicated, and Geralt desperately wants those times when it was simple back. Everything's so much harder with Jaskier. His feelings are harder to understand and he doesn't understand why his heart skips eight beats at once when he lays eyes on the bard. 

Jaskier hums, shivering slightly. He scoots closer, pressing so close to Geralt's warmer body. Geralt stares into the smoldering embers of their fire. He ignores the other man's quiet snores and how close he is. He ignores how fast his heart is beating. 

It's humiliating how easily Jaskier manages to tear down all of Geralt's walls. 

The sky turns red and the sun rises over the mountain range. Jaskier is still fast asleep, drooling on Geralt's armor. Carefully, as not to wake the sleeping man, Geralt lays him down, putting a saddlebag beneath his head to cushion him. He pulls Jaskier's blanket up over his shoulders. 

His hand almost touches the bard's face before Geralt stops himself. What the hell is he doing? This is so unlike him. 

He grabs his sword, sheaths it and starts packing up the camp. Putting things away in Roach's saddlebags is hard when one of them is being occupied. He can't put the bedroll away when Jaskier's using it either, so he decides to wait and make breakfast. 

Soon enough, when sunlight is dappling the ground and the smell of meat wafting through the air, Jaskier blinks himself awake. He stretches, yawning, and rubs his eyes. 

"Good morning, Geralt," Jaskier says, smiling sleepily. 

It takes all of Geralt's willpower not to kiss him, or say what's on his mind, those  _ words _ . And so he grunts in reply. 

Running his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it, Jaskier walks closer to the fire on his knees. "What's on the menu?" 

"Deer," Geralt answers gruffly. His greatest weakness is Jaskier in the morning. He can't help but wonder what it would be like to wake up like this for the rest of his life, the only difference being a ring on his finger, its twin on Jaskier's. 

He eats his food as Jaskier snarfs his down and helps himself to more. What would Jaskier look like underneath him, smiling and being ravished? Beautiful, probably. Just as he does now, with bedhair and crumbs falling down his shirt. 

Geralt looks away and focuses on his food, finishing it rather quickly. 

*******

Geralt lays Jaskier down, kissing him, cradling the bard in his arms. He can feel Jaskier's hands in his hair, untying the white locks and letting them free. Normally, Geralt is rough with his lovers, wanting to get off without care. But now… he wants to go slow, take care of Jaskier, make him feel good and safe. 

Every touch is soft and gentle. Roaming fingertips and wandering hands, breathless kisses and bitten lips. Jaskier's legs wrap around Geralt's hips, and clothes seem to just fall off and disappear. 

Jaskier's body is smooth, free of any scars or blemishes. The bard isn't scrawny, but definitely has a smaller frame than Geralt's, and skin softer than a duck's downy feathers. 

Geralt kisses his partner's neck, keeping his teeth away from Jaskier's delicate skin. The soft noises the bard makes tingle right down Geralt's spine in ways he's never experienced before. It's intoxicating. 

Jaskier tilts his head back, biting his lip and giggling softly. "Tickles," he whispers, when Geralt stops. "Please keep going." 

A trail of light kisses is all Geralt leaves as he makes his way down the bard's figure. His hands grip Jaskier's hips, kissing right above his belly button. 

Jaskier's hands grab Geralt's hands on his hips and their eyes meet. Sky blue eyes melt hardened yellow ones, softening the intense gaze. They hold the stare, and Geralt crawls back up to stop himself from saying something really stupid by kissing Jaskier. 

"Take me, Geralt," Jaskier murmurs, touching the witcher's face softly. "I want you." 

Geralt blinks and suddenly he's in the woods, leaning against a tree. He looks around and spots Jaskier on the ground strumming on his lute. He clenches his jaw, trying to banish the imagery lingering in his mind. How Jaskier behaved, how his eyes looked in the darkness, how beautiful he was. 

Jaskier sits, eyebrows drawn together, singing softly and his voice is literally music to Geralt's ears. He can't place the song, so it must be new. 

Adjusting himself, Geralt stands and makes his way over to Roach, stroking their neck. The camp is already packed and ready to go, courtesy of Jaskier. 

"Morning, sleeping beauty," Jaskier says brightly. 

"Good morning, Jaskier," Geralt replies, mounting Roach. "Let's go." 

Jaskier hops onto his feet, slinging his lute around his shoulder. 

*******

"What were you dreaming about?" Jaskier asks, breaking the silence. "You were mumbling and moving around a lot." 

Geralt's heart stops and he says, "Nothing." 

"I heard my name." Jaskier looks ahead. 

_ Fuck.  _ "Jaskier, it was nothing you need to concern yourself about." 

Jaskier looks down and then up at Geralt. He bites his lip before saying, "I dream about you, too." 

Geralt looks at him. He seems sincere. What has he dreamed about? Certainly not about the same things Geralt does. 

He doesn't answer. 

*******

Too much alcohol and too much privacy leads to midnight talks where Geralt is more open than a whore's legs. He lays on his back, looking up through the leaves at the twinkling stars. Jaskier sits nearby, singing softly. 

"I did dream about you," Geralt says quietly. "This morning."

The music stops. 

"You and I were staying overnight someplace. We…" He trails off, uncertainly, unsure of how to phrase it. "We were… making love." 

Jaskier doesn't respond, but Geralt hears a sharp thud and lute strings twang in protest. More rustling and scuffing sounds and suddenly Jaskier's face is hovering over his head. 

"Jaskier… I think I- I think I love you," Geralt confesses quietly, golden eyes softened by the cut of Jaskier's gaze. 

The bard blinks and then their lips meet.  _ His lips are as soft as I imagined _ , Geralt thinks, lifting his hands, cradling Jaskier's face.  _ He's just how I imagined him to be.  _

The kiss breaks as the moon reaches her highest peak. Moonlight drips over the two of them, coating them in silver. Jaskier looks stunning. 

"I love you too, Geralt," Jaskier whispers, crawling on top of the witcher's lap. "Can you show me?" 

"Show you?" Geralt asks. His eyes widen in realization as Jaskier takes off his shirt and drops it. "Oh." 

The expression on Jaskier's face is soft, his cheeks dusted in pink as he meets Geralt's eyes. He shivers as Geralt runs his hands up Jaskier's torso, mapping out the contours of his body. Geralt pauses over the bard's beating heart, feeling it beat hard and fast. 

Geralt strips off his shirt too, pulling Jaskier down and kissing him. Jaskier whines, breaking the kiss and standing up, wiggling out of his pants and shoes. He helps Geralt out of his own pants and boots, and then sits back down on the witcher's lap. He leans over the witcher to fumble around in his pack, returning with a small bottle of oil. 

Geralt looks at the bottle, then up at Jaskier with a cocked eyebrow. "You keep this on hand?"

"I-I keep it for emergencies," Jaskier explains, stammering and stumbling over his words. "Or… times like this." 

Watching as Jaskier drips oil over his fingers, watching as the slick liquid spills over and onto the witcher's chest, Geralt grips his bard's hips to anchor himself. Seeing and watching the human prepare himself, slipping fingers in and out of himself, biting his lip and bracing himself with a hand on Geralt's chest, drives the witcher crazy. 

Jaskier slicks Geralt with quick and experienced hands. Just before he can sink down onto Geralt's cock, the witcher grabs his waist and flips them, pinning the bard down. 

He slips inside Jaskier, tucking his arms underneath the bard's body as a cushion from the hard ground below, pressing their foreheads together. Geralt can smell the slick scent of arousal and the saltiness of Jaskier's sweat. Kissing his neck, Geralt can taste it on his skin as well. 

Jaskier bites his lip, digging his nails into scarred skin, whimpering, and he tilts his head back, allowing Geralt more skin to dote upon. Geralt happily does so. Memorizing how Jaskier feels and tastes and smells, locking it all away in his memory. 

"Good gods, Geralt-" Jaskier says, laughing quietly. "Dare I say you're -  _ mnn  _ \- the  _ best _ I've had?" 

Geralt kisses up Jaskier's neck, across his cheek and kisses his lips softly. He whispers, "I would say I feel the same." 

Geralt nips his neck and Jaskier squeaks, flailing his hands for a moment before finding an anchor in Geralt's hair. He releases a held-in shuddering breath, tight and wound like a spring. "Fuck." 

Adjusting how Jaskier lays on his arm, Geralt moves his other one to grip the bard's hip. He smiles - a real, genuine grin and looks at Jaskier so tenderly it'd make happily married couples grimace. 

Seeing the smile and the light in his witcher's eyes lit a flame within Jaskier, who reaches up to cradle Geralt's face, running the pad of his thumb over his cheekbone. 

Everything feels so close and intimate. The world around them melted away long ago, enveloping them in their heat and musk. It's powerful, intoxicating, incapacitating. It's both too much and not enough for both of them. 

Jaskier's mind is muddled and cloudy, and he's only ever getting more drunk off Geralt's touch every second. The friction between him and his witcher is touching him in every right way and Geralt can tell it's not going to be much longer. 

He knows he can't hold on either, and as if on cue, Jaskier trembles, shakily gripping anything his can. The bard grabs his hand, squeezing it and looking at him, leaning up to kiss him as the last shudder goes through his body. 

Squeaking and whining with every extra thrust and stroke of Geralt's respective cock and hand. Geralt sits up, still moving ever so slowly, wanting to see Jaskier's face in the campfire light and the moonlight. The flames lick over the bard's face and nude torso, body glistening wetly. 

Jaskier shivers, looking up and smiling lopsidedly. His eyebrows are drawn up together and his hands are free, clawing in the dirt. 

"Are you-  _ ah _ \- trying to kill me?" Jaskier moans, thighs twitching. Overstimulated. 

"Wanna see you come again," Geralt says. The look on Jaskier's face is halfway between terrified and too euphoric to care. 

Geralt runs a free hand over his bard's chest, lingering on his nipple and smirking at the blissed-out expression on his face. It doesn't take long before Jaskier moans Geralt's name, crunching twigs in his palms and arching his back. 

"Good boy," Geralt praises roughly. "See? That wasn't hard, now, was it?" 

Jaskier can't respond in much besides halfhearted words and soft noises. He nods, moaning quietly along with Geralt's gentle thrusts. 

The witcher pulls out and quickly comes too, groaning and bracing himself on Jaskier's body. He leans down and kisses the bard, who kisses back messily. 

After a few moments of silence and heavy breathing, Jaskier murmurs, "You gotta show me that again sometime…"

Geralt chuckles, planting soft kisses on Jaskier's neck; the quiet giggles Jaskier makes like music to his ears. Jaskier smells like smoke, sunshine and sweat. He tastes even better, salt, daisies and the unmistakable taste of strawberries. Geralt thinks these things are his favorite things. 

**Author's Note:**

> sooo,, recently i watched the witcher on netflix and immediately fell in love with the whole show. and thEN i started playing the witcher 3: wild hunt and now i'm obsessed. so now y'all get this fic. thank u for reading and enjoying, and i'd appreciate if y'all left a comment or even just kudos! comments and kudos inspire me to write more, because it feels like then you guys want to see more!


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